Bombshell - Riverside Origins Pt. 02

Chapter 4

"That son-of-a-bitch!" Luna declared. "He's got some big damn balls showing up out of the blue like that! Like, hey fuck-knuckle, ever heard of the phone? Send a text? Slide up in your DMs?"

Luna was sitting at a desk with three side-by-side monitors and two computer towers. It stretched across one of the walls in the back office of Miranda's house. The rest of the room was lined with long tables holding the high-tech tools and equipment she used to service the Nandex.

"Well, actually," the blonde said from the next room. "He's been doing all that for like a month. I've kinda been ignoring him, hoping he'd go away. I didn't think he'd ever actually show up here."

"Oh. Well, then: hey fuck-knuckle take the goddam hint!"

"That's what I'm saying!" Miranda came back into the office. "Did you find anything on this Baker guy?"

"About what you'd expect from a north-end drug dealer," Luna replied. "Handful of priors, possession mostly, some intent, but it seems like he's been keeping his head down since moving here from Warden City sometime in the last year-" She spun around in her chair and her brown eyes bulged at the sight of Miranda. "-what the what happened to you?"

The blonde was wearing a scandalously short, ruffled zebra print miniskirt. Below it her long legs were sheathed in fishnet stockings. Above it, her flat tummy was naked, and above that a clingy pink tube top was struggling to contain her big round breasts. Her normally lustrous hair was a ratted mess, and her makeup was bordering on garish.

"What?" she asked innocently, putting on two large hoop earrings.

"And just where the hell do you think you're going dressed like that, young lady?" Luna demanded in a tone that made it hard to know if she was joking or not.

"I told you, I'm going to check out Baker's place." She'd gotten the address from Chocolate after Donovan had left. Miranda sat down across from the brunette and began buckling on a pair of hot pink stiletto heels.

"Aaaaaaaaaand you're going to pick up a couple of johns on the way? Maybe get one of them to give you a ride?"

"Luna, I'm going to a drug dealer's house to look for a missing hooker," Miranda huffed. "This way he'll think I'm just one of her friends looking for her, or maybe looking to score. Either way he'll be much more willing to talk to me than if I go down there like little miss social worker Miranda Ashton."

"I don't understand why you're so obsessed with finding this-" Miranda shot Luna a cutting glance. "-this girl, anyway. It's not exactly like she was living a safe lifestyle."

"So just because someone's in a bad situation means they don't deserve our help?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I know," the blonde sighed. "Look, Warren hid this tech from his family because he wanted it to do real good. So, if I'm going to use it to honor that, I'm going to be the kind of superheroine who fights for the little guy, the people who really need help, regardless of their circumstances."

"I get that," Luna said. "And I agree, you know I do, I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"And this isn't just about Paisley," Miranda went on. "She was my friend and I'm worried, yes, but she also told me someone has been taking girls off the streets."

"You mean like human trafficking?"

Miranda nodded grimly. "When she came to me, she was scared. And everybody I ask about her gets scared too. I can feel it in my gut that she didn't just skip town. There is something going on in the streets and they can't go to the cops cuz they're just hookers anyway." She said this last part with air-quotes and a look of disdain.

"And you're thinking if you can find her," Luna followed the logic. "You'll find whoever is behind this and you can stop them."

Miranda nodded. "This sounds like a job for...Cerulean girl!"

"What the fuck is a 'cerulean'?"

"It's a shade of blue," Miranda chuckled. "I guess it should probably be Cerulean Woman?"

"Hash-tag feminism," Luna rolled her eyes. "You better come up with something way better than that, and quick. When you bring down a sex slavery ring, that shit's definitely making the papers."

"Do people even read papers anymore?"

"Older men, at coffee shops," Luna shrugged. "Gotta have some way to pretend they aren't checking out the over-caffeinated high schoolers buying lattes."

"Speaking of checking out," Miranda stood up and gave a little twirl. The whispy lines of her low back tattoo curled out the top of her skirt, and the zebra ruffles fluttered around her hips, teasing glimpses of the under-curves of her perfect ass. "Think he'll buy me as a prostitute or what?"

Luna took a deep breath and rolled her eyes again. "This is a really stupid plan."

Chapter 5

Despite Luna's further protests, Miranda took a cab to Riverside's north end. It was one of the more harrowing rides she'd ever had, as the driver spent more time ogling her in his rearview mirror than looking at the road. She had him drop her a couple blocks away from Baker's street.

The moon was shining brightly overhead by the time she arrived in the rundown neighborhood. She was actually a little glad for the dark. There were people on many of the porches, drinking or gossiping, and she could feel their eyes on her as she passed. It had been a while since she'd worn such a short skirt, and she felt like every stride or slight breeze gave a show of her ass.

"Damn, baybay, you lookin' fer me?" hooted a young boy, gathered with a group of teens huddling under one of the few still working streetlights.

"Please, child," she replied, affecting a fake drawl. "I only play if there's grass on the field."

The kids all laughed, and the boy shouted something incredibly lewd. Miranda would have blushed if he'd been old enough to say such a thing to her. She kept walking and they did not follow.

When she reached the address Chocolate had given her, the house was exactly what she'd expected; a small one-story residence, rundown, with a yard that was more dirt than grass. There were lights on inside, including the unmistakable flickering of a television. She couldn't see anyone inside though.

Taking a deep breath, Miranda approached and knocked gently on the front door. When there was no answer she knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing. After a closer look through the windows, still not seeing anyone, and making sure none of the neighbors were paying attention, Miranda crept around to the back yard.

It was in worse shape than the front. There was a wrecked kennel, and an empty dog chain at the center of a worn, muddy circle. No porch or patio, just a cracked set of cement stairs leading to a rusty screen door.

Miranda swore under her breath, teetering as her heels slipped and sunk in the muddy yard. She peeked in a rear window, seeing a dingy kitchen, but still no people. Fortunately, the back door was unlocked. She eased it open, then crept inside. The smell of old food and cigarette smoke filled her nose. The sink and counters were piled with dirty dishes. In the center of the room, between two wobbly chairs, was a small table with an overflowing ashtray on it.

There were voices coming from the front room, but she was pretty sure that was just the TV blaring. There was a second doorway out of the kitchen, leading to a darkened room. Miranda pushed it open gingerly and found a bedroom. A small closet had been left open with the light on. Laundry covered the floor, surrounding a mattress and box spring with no frame. There was a cheap looking dresser, one of the drawers missing its front. She pulled the door shut and crept towards the front room.

The television was an expensive looking flat screen that seemed to take up most of the far wall. The furniture in front of it was mismatched and old. There didn't seem to be anyone in there either, so she stepped out into the room for a better look. There was a computer desk against the wall closest to her. It had a laptop on it, and scattered papers which turned out to be various past due bills. Miranda leafed through a few of them shaking her head.

"A'ight, bitch, don't move!" snarled a voice behind her.

Miranda jumped and let out a startled squeal.

"Hands up!"

Great, she winced, raising her hands. How did he get behind me?

"Now turn around, real slow."

Miranda did as she was told. There was a man crouched in the doorway she'd just come through. His boney hand clutched a pistol that was aimed right at her. He was noticeably tall, even crouched, and overly skinny with cropped dirty blonde hair, and a patchy beard. He was wearing a worn-out wife beater and ripped jeans. His arms were covered in poorly done, uncoordinated tattoos that made her think of the scribblings in a child's coloring book. His eyes peered at her with a tired look in them.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" he demanded.

"I'm, uh, I'm Candy," she said in her fake drawl. "I'm looking for Paisley... you Baker?"

The man let his gaze slither over her body. Miranda titled her hips a little to accentuate her figure. His eyes lingered on the two plump breasts wrapped in the thin pink bandeau.

"Don't know no Paisley," he grumbled, waving his gun towards the door. "Get the fuck out."

"But, you're Baker, right?" she pressed. "C'mon man, she tol' me 'bout you, I'm cool."

His eyes narrowed.

"How else you think I knew to come here?"

"You work with her or some shit?"

Miranda glanced pointedly down at her scantily clad body. "Or some shit."

"Well, that bitch ain't here, so get the fuck on," he gestured towards the door again, thumbing back the hammer this time.

"C'mon man, don't be a dick," Miranda said, taking a step back. She arched slightly, pushing her boobs out even more, his eyes dropped to them immediately. "I'm just tryin' to find my friend and maybe a good time..."

"Fucken tweaker sluts," he groaned, but eased off the gun.

Miranda took her first deep breath in several moments. She lowered her hands slowly. "See you do know my girl! If she ain't here, where's she at?"

"Shut the fuck up, whore," he sounded irritated. "Come on."

Miranda followed him through the kitchen and back into his bedroom. He flipped on the light, it was dim and orangey. He went to the closet, quickly sliding the door shut. Before he did, she saw an open hatch in the floor which she hadn't noticed before.

He was in the crawlspace, she realized. I didn't even think of that, quiet as I could be, he still heard every step I took.

"So, I assume you wantin' to pay for my shit with some pussy, right?"

"Huh?" Miranda looked up, wrenched from her thoughts.

Baker scowled and came towards her. "You keep them eyes off my closet, you got that, whore?"

"Oh, right," she stammered. "Sorry..." He was right on top of her by then, she started to back away but bumped into the wall.

"Whatever," he said, shaking his head. "So you got cash, or you tryna pay with this?" His hand shot forward and grabbed her by the pussy.

"HEY!" Miranda squealed, and grabbed his wrist with both hands.

"Chill out, slut," he sighed. "I'm just makin' sure you got the right equipment. Can't be too careful these days."

Miranda gulped audibly, not sure how to protest without blowing her cover. Baker pushed her panties to one side and stroked a finger along her slit. Her labium was smooth, soft and hairless. He pushed in a little deeper, sliding two fingers between her supple lips. A gentle tremor moved through her hips as he teased the sensitive petals. She felt frozen in place as his fingertips began to prod her prim vagina.

Baker let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl, yo' shit is tight!"

"Okay, satisfied?" she faked a giggle, pushing his hand away before it could penetrate her. "All pussy..."

Baker stepped back, grinning as she quickly readjusted her panties. "I'm just sayin', your girl Paisley? Her shit getting' a little tired."

"Yeah, sure," Miranda was flustered, trying to keep her cool. "So, where do you think she is though?"

"Fuck, who gives a shit," Baker said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "So what kinda medicine you take?"

"What? Oh, um, I mean, whatever, I just like to party."

"My kinda slut," he said, his eyes locked on her chest once again. "So why don't you show me how you party."

Miranda crossed her arms under her breasts, resisting the urge to cover them as the dealer ogled her. "What do you mean?"

"Dance for me."

"Dance," Miranda echoed doubtfully.

"Yeah, see you fine and all but I ain't too thirsty just now," he said, looking her up and down. "So maybe you put on a little show, get me turnt up, then I'll bomb you out and we can fuck."

"I don't know," she murmured, looking around the room. "What if Paisley comes back?"

"The bitch ain't comin' back, aight!" he snapped, standing up again.

Miranda jumped back. "Why not? Where'd she go?"

His hand shot forward, this time snagging a handful of her ratted blonde tresses. Miranda gasped in pain as he jerked her head to one side and pulled her away from the wall.

"Let go!" She grabbed his wrist with one hand, reaching back to untangle his fingers with the other. He seized that wrist with his free hand, pulling it away and jerking her hair again. "OW! Stop it!"

"I don't like nosey bitches," Baker hissed in her face. "So shut the fuck up about that bitch!" He emphasized his point with another harsh yank, making Miranda whine. "Got it?"

"Y-yes." She gasped through clenched teeth.

"Good," he spat, shoving her away.

Miranda nearly fell off her stiletto heels but managed to stay up right. She reached up, rubbing the ache out of her scalp and glaring at the dealer.

"Now, you wanna get wasted and fuck, get that ass moving," he sank back onto the edge of the bed. "If not get the fuck out."

He knows something, Miranda thought, forcing her scornful expression to soften. I guess I have to buy a little time, while I figure out how to make him talk...

"There's no music," she murmured.

A crooked grin stretched over the dealer's face. He leaned over to the dresser, tapping the screen on his phone. "In Da Club" by 50 Cent started to play. Miranda blushed bright pink; this had been one of her regular songs at the Kitty Galore club all those years ago.

She started rocking to the beat, it built slow. Her body found the rhythm like an old friend. She switched her hips, making her skirt flip and flutter. Baker's eyes flashed, searching for a glimpse, drawn in by her tease. She rocked side to side, bobbing her boobs, drawing his eyes up as they jiggled in the flimsy top. Her entire body rolled with the beat, Miranda whipped her hair around, bending forward and rising slowly, letting him look down her cleavage. She made eye contact with her audience, he was watching intently.

She felt a little charge realizing she had him already.

Spinning around, her hips popped so the skirt would flash glimpses of her little round booty. Baker grinned at the sight of the tramp stamp peeking out from the waistband. She started to bend forward but stopped, rocked back to throw a vixen glance over her shoulder. Baker's eyes were glued to her ass and she watched them dart side to side as she switched back and forth. She dropped low and brought it up slow, giving the dealer a perfect view right up her skirt, her peach-like cheeks, the hot pink thong clinging to her prim pussy, her long legs extended, straight and sexy.

Really starting to feel the music, Miranda bent all the way over putting her hands on the floor and her ass in the air, twerking furiously, her skirt flapping, giving him a full view of her bare cheeks bouncing, rolling and shaking, the rest of her tattoo, then Miranda dropped to her knees, bumping and grinding on the floor, before coming back up so slow, long legs spread, hips cocked to give him an inviting view of her pink-pantied pussy.

"Damn, girl," Baker hissed. "Come here."

Miranda turned, shooting him a flirtatious smile. She moved up to him, her body gyrating to the music, practically hypnotizing him with the jiggle and bounce of her tits. She hooked her fingers into the tube top, pulling it down but not off, teasing him, not really showing anything just yet. Baker was licking his chops, and she noticed a bulge already straining his jeans.

She couldn't help but smile and think: Guess I still got it!

She was actually a little lost in the moment, memories of the Kitty Galore, of being on stage, flitting through her mind so vividly - And there was Warren in the front row, his eyes locked on hers, not her jiggling tits, not her naked slit as she slowly spread her legs, but on her eyes - Baker's hand's slid up her neck, and before she knew what was happening, he'd pulled her down on her knees.

"Oh!" Miranda's eyes went round as dinner plates as she found herself kneeling between his thighs, her face only inches away from that bulge she'd noticed before. "Umm, you feelin' a little more, um, thirsty...yet?"

"Gettin' there," he said with a leering grin. He began to unbutton and unzip his pants.

Miranda's stomach did a backflip. This was such a stupid plan!

Baker pulled out his stiff member and her wide green eyes fixated on it. Miranda's heart thumped a little faster. It was a fine size, slim and sort of pointed with a curve to it. But her stomach twisted into a knot, no way she could suck his dick, this two-bit dealer, who knew where'd been or what he'd done before, not even to protect her cover...there had to be another way.

"You just said dance," Miranda started to push away.

Baker's hand slipped around to the back of her neck."Sh Sh, it's fine, c'mere."

"Wait, I don't think..." she tried to protest as he pulled her forward.

"I'm almost there," Baker said. "Just get me good an' sloppy, then I'll dope you up and pound you out, mm'kay?"

She tried to come up with another plan, but for some reason didn't resist the insistent pull of his hand on the back of her neck. Miranda shook her head, opened her mouth to say "no", to tell him to "stop" but as she did his cock slid over her tongue. Her heart sank as she closed her soft pink lips around his shaft and gave it a first experimental suckle.

"There ya go," he mumbled above her.

Miranda slid back along his length, then pushed forward slowly. He tasted earthy, salty, and a little charge swelled through her chest despite herself. She realized how long it had been since she tasted a man.

Miranda sucked him in again, deeper, feeling how firm and warm he was between her lips. His bitter musk filled her nostrils. As she pulled back again, her dainty fingers wrapped around his shaft and stroked gently. Miranda swirled her soft pink tongue around the head of his dick, felt it flinch in delight and almost giggled. She licked up and down his rigid shaft, stroking as she did, coating him in her saliva, feeling his veins pulse and tense against her tongue.

Baker's hand weaved through her ratty hair and tickled under her chin. "Look me at me while you suck it," he groaned.

Miranda did as he said, gazing up at him as she bobbed up and down on his hard dick. Seeing the two-bit dealer staring back at her, his half-crooked smile as she serviced his cock, triggered a rush of shame.

I can't believe I'm doing this! She thought but didn't stop.

She sucked him a little harder, her blonde head continuing to bob. Her cheeks were flushed and pink with the heat of his hardon. Her lips slipped back forth, slick with spit, her velvety tongue flipped and squirmed against his veiny shaft, and she maintained eye contact, despite the humiliation of who she was blowing.

Baker moaned encouragements. Miranda felt the tingle of precum in the back of her throat. She pulled away slow, glittering strings of spittle clinging to her pink lips. She stroked his slick shaft and buried her face between his thighs, lapping at his balls.